


Hell on Earth

by Allikizme



Category: Supernatural, The X-Files
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angel Scully, Crossover, Hunter Mulder, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allikizme/pseuds/Allikizme
Summary: A Supernatural AU where Mulder is a Hunter and Scully is an angel sent to Earth to make sure he does what he's supposed to.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully
Kudos: 6





	Hell on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> this is a pilot of sorts, I wrote it YEARS ago when I had my X Files phase (2015) and never went any further than an outline. If it is well-received or I'm bored I might write more, but really I'm only posting now because I'm kinda sad and want attention and a distraction from my master's thesis. Anyway. Enjoy!

This was not the life he had planned to live. Hotel to crappy hotel, eating whatever he could scrape together. No friends. No family. Just him, chasing down the demon that took his sister.

Fox Mulder sat in his car and thought about his life while picking sunflower seeds out of his teeth. The driver’s side window hadn’t worked for the past year and the wind whistled through the two inches it was stuck open at, but it was handy for pushing little seed shards through.

He had seen a lot of shit, he decided. Being a hunter and all. Ever since his sister was stolen out of her bed by the smoking demon… well, it had all been downhill from there, really. He supposed what followed had been the inevitable path—parents divorcing, father dying unexpectedly, mother committing suicide—until it was just him and his stupid Oxford degree. Mulder sucked on his teeth and made a face. Fuck lot of good that had done him. Instead of getting him away from the horrors of his past, his study of psychology had awakened things long-forgotten.

Now here he was. A Hunter, with a capital H. The only things he could count on were his handgun and salted sunflower seeds. And that it was all real.

It had been little things, at first. And by little he meant ghosts. Ghosts were gateway monsters. Once you saw a few of those, it was only a matter of time before you were mowing down shapeshifters, decapitating vamps, and exorcising demons.

Never _the_ demon, though.

He had interrogated the last one he’d had. Poor Alex Krycek. Mulder had met the kid a month ago, and he’d had potential. Mulder had wanted to save him from this life. He was just a kid, after all.

And wildly susceptible to possession.

Alex bleeding out on the painted devil’s trap—just another clip to add to the horror show that was Mulder’s dreams. That’s why he didn’t sleep. That’s why he wasn’t sleeping now. The clock on his dash was pushing three AM and Mulder was not slowing down.

He’d had to leave Alex there. He’d called 911, of course, but the demon had taken its toll on the kid. Mulder hadn’t stayed to see if he'd made it.

Now he was driving, at first without purpose but then he’d gotten a call around ten that night from Skinner—the man who was working to catalogue all the monsters the hunters faced. He was the one connecting dot. When he had cases, he dished them out to the hunters on his contact list. Mulder happened to be close to this one, and he wanted to numb the pain. So he had pulled off at the next exit and headed for Georgetown.

“There have been reports of people with—oh god—with their eyes burned out of their skulls,” Skinner had said over the phone. “I don’t have anything in my library that can do that. I need you to check it out.”

Mulder had already checked out the two crime scenes (and played his favorite game—fake FBI agent) and thought he had a pattern. The victims so far had been criminals. They had been found with weapons and when their prints were run they were all found to have records. One of the crimes had a witness, a woman, who said she had been rescued by a blinding white light.

A seed cracked between Mulder’s teeth. Rescued shmescued—a monster was a monster. There weren’t any good ones. He was sure of that.

Mulder parked his car, holstered his gun, and got out, a seed dangling from his lips. If he was right—and he usually was—this monster would be hanging around the high-crime area. Though why it picked Georgetown instead of like, Trenton or something, Mulder didn’t know. All he knew was that it was probably going to come here, to this building, next. And Mulder was gonna put a hole in it.

He went in through the door. Glass broke under his feet, and he pulled out his trusty flashlight. Yep. Looked about like any other abandoned building he’d ever seen. And he’d seen—and slept in—quite a few.

Judging from the thing’s method of attack, it burned its victims from a distance. Attacking just the eyes was oddly specialized, suggesting control. Mulder’s plan was to shoot and run, because if it did its eye-burning thing, he definitely didn’t want to be too close.

Unless it turned out to be the smoking demon. Then Mulder wasn’t sure he could get close enough.

Suddenly he heard something, like wood echoing against concrete. He lifted his gun, felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. He could see a white light glowing through a doorway. _Come out,_ he coaxed. _Come out you smoking son of a bitch._

He stepped through the crumbling doorway, gun first. A silhouette. Mulder’s heart jumped. Was this it? He took the safety off his gun.

The thing turned its head. It looked human, like demons did. Mulder could see its hair move, shadowed by the light.

Mulder stared, ready to fire, but he held off. What if it wasn’t it? It could be just a person. And Mulder did not kill people. “Who are you!?” he called.

The light intensified. Mulder shaded his eyes, afraid he was about to go blind, but he felt no burning. No heat. Just the light.

“Fox Mulder?”

The voice was female, cool and resonating. Mulder felt it in his very bones.

He saw the figure come forward, out of the white light, like some… angel…

The light faded. Mulder blinked spots from his eyes and found himself face to face with an unimpressive, short, red-haired woman. He stared. “Did you make that light?” he demanded.

“Are you Fox Mulder?”

“Do you work for him? The smoking demon?” He raised his gun again. “Answer me now.”

“I’ve been sent to watch over you, Fox Mulder.”

Alarms sounded in his head. “By who? Who are you?” he yelled. “Answer me before I shoot off something vital!”

The woman blinked languidly, cocked her head so that her red hair brushed her shoulder, and said, “By the lord. I am Sculliel.”

Mulder frowned. “You’re… what the fuck is a scully?”

“Not scully, Sculliel,” the woman corrected. She stood up a little straighter in her ill-fitting business suit. “And I am an angel of the lord.”

He stared at her. He lowered his gun. “Huh?”

The woman brushed some hair away from her angular face. “Don’t tell me that out of all the things you believe in, angels aren’t one of them.”

“Prove it,” he said.

She looked at him, her height allowing her to gaze up at him through her lashes in a way that made Mulder feel stupid, and then that light filled the room again. He shaded his eyes on instinct, and then

Oh god. They were huge. Massive. Impossible.

Such wings. Such magnificent, incredible wings, shadowed on the wall and ceiling behind her. Mulder damn near dropped his gun.

“No weapon you possess can harm me,” she said. “I am not one of the monsters you seek to destroy.”

Mulder looked at her. He was having trouble keeping the gun steady. “What do you want,” he said, feebly.

“I have been sent to Earth to protect you.”

“I don’t need to protecting.”

“I know,” she said. “But you don’t understand, Fox Mulder, just how important your work is. Upstairs is all a-buzz with everything you have done down here. It really is an honor to work with you.”

Mulder scowled at her. “This isn’t some _job,_ ” he said. “You can’t just get… _reassigned_ to work with me or—or watch over me or whatever. I don’t work for anyone. I protect people from monsters. And right now that’s you.” He lifted his gun again, his focus renewed. “So why don’t I put a few bullets through you and see what happens, hm?”

“Please don’t waste your ammunition. You’ll need it later.”

Mulder said, "Get fucked," and pulled the trigger.

The woman did not even flinch. Hell, the bullet didn't even pierce her ridiculous shoulder-padded suit. Did he miss? At this range? He tried again. The gunshot echoed around them, and she stepped toward him, putting the barrel right to her chest. Her eyes were pale blue like a mountain stream. "If this is what it takes for you to believe," she said, her voice soft, "then do it. But I would expect you, of all people, Fox, to have _faith._ " 

She was talking about his sister. He pretended like he didn't know it. "What do you mean," he said tersely. The gun stayed pressed against the of skin below her collarbones.

Her expression was unreadable. She said, "Samantha."

Mulder did not move. "What do you know about her," he said. "Where is she? Is she alive?"

"I do not have any answers," she said. "You have an important role to play here, during the Final Days. I am here to ensure you fulfill it."


End file.
